


Security

by WasJustAReader



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, The X-Files Revival, Well technically pre-Revivial I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WasJustAReader/pseuds/WasJustAReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unremarkable house has a landline, and Mulder clings to Scully's voice on the answering machine message after she moves out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security

**Author's Note:**

> This is *very tenuously* related to last week's X-Files writing challenge prompt (Hello) from leiascully over on Tumblr. 
> 
> Will also be posted on fanfiction.net

She wouldn’t let him record the message on their answering machine, even after his name was cleared, after someone could conceivably reach “Fox Mulder’s answering machine” if they really wanted to. But who wanted to? Hardly anyone called the house, anyway. Mulder often wondered why they had the landline at all. They both had cell phones, and only a handful of people had their phone number. It was mostly just Scully’s mother who called. And even that was rare. Scully usually called her. On holidays and birthdays and such.

He remembered the day she had recorded the latest message, the “I-can-finally-use-your-name-in public” version of the automated greeting. He had tried to wrestle the phone from her, ending up tackling her on the couch and trying to tickle her into submission. She had stilled him with a kiss and a whispered “Let me do this, Mulder,” barely more than a breath against his lips.

That was over five years ago. She’s been gone five weeks. He hasn’t changed the message. It’s still their house even if no one calls. Even if he lives there alone.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of Dana Scully and…” she’d hesitated there. ‘Fox’ felt wrong coming from her mouth. “Dana Scully and Spooky Mulder.”

He had groaned and made another half-hearted attempt at wresting the phone from her grip. She’d only smiled wickedly and scooted to the opposite end of the couch.

“We’re not available at the moment, but if you leave a message we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. If it’s a matter of national security, call us on our cell phones.”

She couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice and the last seconds of the recording were nearly full of pure Scully belly laughter.

She had tried to delete the message, to record over it. She said she was just kidding, and shouldn’t they have something more… composed? Professional? After all, they were both back in the world now. But he wouldn’t let her. They had fought over it, but they both knew the message would stay, and the make-up sex was more than worth it. Not that there was really anything to make up for anyway. She had gotten to say his name to the world, a small world of callers to the unremarkable phone in the unremarkable house, but still.

And she’d laughed.

That laugh is most of the reason why he hasn’t changed the message. That laugh is his hope that someday she’ll come home.

The first week or so after she left, he would lie in bed every night with his cellphone and call the landline. Let it ring through until the machine picked up. “You’ve reached the voicemail box of…” And he would listen to her laugh. Something neither of them had been doing much of recently.

Now he only listens occasionally, only when the darkness feels like it’s close to engulfing him completely. He can’t bring her back, not now at least, but that sound brings a pinprick of light back. And that would have to be enough.

Late one night, about a month after she packed, she calls the house. He’s in the shower and doesn’t see the flashing light on the machine until the next morning.

He presses play and is met with silence. He’s about to hit erase – must have been a wrong number – when he hears her breath hitch. He’s not sure what he would do if he heard his own laughter played back to him right now, but he’d probably be speechless for a bit, too.

She’s quiet for another minute, and then “I, uh… never mind. I’ll try you on your cell in the morning.”

“To save message press star one, to delete message press star two, to…” Mulder hangs up the phone.

And his cellphone rings.

“Mulder, it’s me.”

It wasn’t national security, but it was some kind of security. And they both knew it.


End file.
